More or less. The idea is that you're building up your gang by writing stories that make money per story depending on how, erm, creative and exciting, I guess, the story is to readers. You can also do drugs... buy and sell them (though you're requested not do that too often), and with all this money, buy cars and weapons that can THEN be used by all the members of your gang. (There's penalties for writing weapons or cars -- or drugs -- into your gang's stories if your gang doesn't own them.)

QUOTE (continued...)

but what's with the gang war thing?

The idea is you pick-on (read: agree with) some other gang's writer, and the pair of you each write three stories, blowing eachother's gangs to pieces, and the writer judged the best wins the $500. Sure, it does sound like easy money, but the trade-off is that anything you lose in the war IS lost by your gang. (So, lose a weapon and your gang will lose it evermore.)

At least, that's how *I* understand gang wars.

QUOTE (continued...)

And who the hell are the Uptown Riders and the argument about them, I didn't find them anywhere on the list.

The Uptown Riders are from TLaD/BoGT, and people have suggested getting them listed in our gang list, but judged by BUYG staff as unnecessary since we have plenty of empty spots.

If you want to join us, just go back to the front page (p1 of this thread), find a gang you're interested in writing for, and a location that is free (no writer there) and post your first story making it clear that's for whom and where you write and... it's yours.Some time later the staff will update the front page with you included.

bmx rule

This looks pretty fun, so as I understand it, you write stories? I can dig that, but what's with the gang war thing? And who the hell are the Uptown Riders and the argument about them, I didn't find them anywhere on the list.

yes good stories. you have to ask to join a gang in a empty spot (as shown on first page) and then start typing. you get money for your gang by the effort that was put in your story, by the BUYG staff. one post a day. with the money you can buy stuff for your gang like weapons, drugs and vehicles.

P.S im dropping out of story writing id rather edit stories. if this guy wants he can take Honkers

Don't miss those all-important commas at the end of a quote: "Frankies going to the bathroom , " Tommy announced.

If you're putting in translated text, the better way of doing it isn't with parentheses: "Ok, patani (guys)," Vlad said. , but something like this: "Okay, patani," Vlad said, using the Russian word for "guys".

Question marks go inside the quotation marks: not this "Want some blow"? but this: "Want some blow?"

First letter after a quotation does not need to be capitalised, as in: "Frankies going to the bathroom," H e announced. There's not been a full-stop, so unless it's someone's name, no capital letter is required. But, a space after the final quote-mark is required. Not like this: "Smoke?"Tommy asked.

There is ALWAYS a space after a full stop or a comma. Or a quotation mark.

Now, ratings.

TarnellPetrovic Bratva | 69th Street Diner | Second story$36It's long (1,400 words), and it's got everything: some violence, some humour, some exceptionally well-armed gays. (Reminded me of that motiv-poster of the diamond knuckle-dusters and the tag "You're going to pay for your homophobia... fabulously!" ) What's not to like?With this line: "His final decision was the Ak’77, mini SMG and the combat pistol." it would APPEAR that you have tried to use a weapon your gang does not own. This is a big no-no, and I told a couple o' people off for doing it last time, so you should have learned that fact. Since it's not clear your guys actually used them, I won't penalise you; but, please do not do it again.I like your work. Keep it up.Couple o' minor things: A few minutes of healthy walking didn’t heart him. should be "hurt"? ‘Ahh shut up you stupid cow!’ Alexander suddenly interfered = sorry, what was that? Interjected, maybe? And,maybe a typo, everyone run to the cars should be "ran" because they did it in the past. I know, minor stuff.Possible illegal use of a AK-47: first warning .

Vercetti27Pegorino Family | Pegorino Mansion | Chapter 3$39Not as explosive an opening line as your very first, but a good first line for the chapter that got my interest as soon as I read it. The story, as a set-up, was pretty good. Good length. Some grammatical mistakes, a quick spell-check, and you seem undecided about your paragraphs: sometimes an extra line, sometimes two, sometimes none. But, overall, a solid effort.I laughed when I read Marco's telling Jimmy the date instead of the time, since I'm sure it was there 'cuz I asked about it. GG! You'd probably agree it wasn't the... most elegant way you could have told us this fact. A little unnatural (though amusingly effective). Not something someone would probably do IRL.The better way would be to drop the fact into casual conversation while someone is talking about something else. Something more natural. Think about when someone would mention the date to you and use that. Like they were signing some document. Or mentioning events around the time (Google "1991") is a great way of pulling it off. (Eg; Looking at a newspaper, Jimmy marvelled that the USA had kicked Iraq's ass so easily. OR Looking at a newspaper, Jimmy marvelled that the Soviets were falling apart without a single nuke launched.) Makes you look smart and tells people the rough date without needing to know an exact one.Still, I like where your head's at. I got a laugh. You don't need the word "mafia" in this line: What type of mafia family... We all know what you mean, and it seems to me that IRL no wise guy ever refers to themselves as "mafia". That's a police name for them. They call themselves the Family or "Our thing" (Cosa Nostra in Italian).Remember rule (ii) of the grammar rules: Pegorino’s stepped off the boat doesn't need an apostrophe 'cuz it's plural not something the Peg's own. (Now, I've ADDED one in "Peg's" because it's missing letters, letters replaced by the apostrophe.) And this "And don’t call me Mr.P"? has a superfluous question mark since it's not a question but a demand.

bhlegendIrish Mob | Steinway Beer Garden | Chapter 3 (I think that should read "4")$22Gee. Your characters cannot catch a break, huh? They seem to just magnetically attract gunfire. But, as a group of stories, there seems to be a lot of violence, but I'm not reading an overall plan about what these poor fellas are doing to be so hated and shot at, or what they do to pay for all these bullets they're using.You still need some work with the grammar (check (iv) and (v) above in particular), and a spell check would also help (do you have MS Word?), but I think your stories have definitely improved.BTW, the police siren wasn't IN Phil's living room, so it wasn't heard FROM his living room. I know what you mean, but "from" in that sentence means the sound is coming FROM that place. Which it's not. 'Cuz Phil's got a pissy little apartment and a cop car would NOT fit in the living room.

Spank-head69Petrovic Bratva | Kenny Petrovic's Mansion | Chapter 3$40(I feel your pain on the slow computer. At times I can't even start IV, and certainly not without a reboot or two.)Fast-paced, exciting, cavalier characters. Yeah, good work. Good paragraph use; good grammar (watch the periods in your quotes), and for that I thank you. It's just easier on the eyes.When you're writing in first person, you don't need to use the words "I thought" after a thought, like you do for speech. So, don't do this: This couldn't get any worse, I thought. You're in first-person; everything we're reading IS your (character's) thoughts.And for the line Oleg gradually spared one hundred dollars for the car , do you mean "gratefully" (grateful that they were safe), or was he being slow and an ass about it. If so, "eventually" or "reluctantly" would be better words. "Gradually" would mean he moved at glacial pace handing it over when what you're really trying to say is that he was being a dick about it. Maybe?

tarnell

thatnx for the good rating i am doing my best. And my bad I did the story in 15 minutes lol, was in a rush as i was heading to my step granddads 80th borthday and i didnt realise i used the guns i didnt own, my bad.

Spank-head69

And for the line Oleg gradually spared one hundred dollars for the car , do you mean "gratefully" (grateful that they were safe), or was he being slow and an ass about it. If so, "eventually" or "reluctantly" would be better words. "Gradually" would mean he moved at glacial pace handing it over when what you're really trying to say is that he was being a dick about it. Maybe?

~ Aragond, on behalf of the Skramz meister.

Yeah, I did mean it in that sense. "Reluctantly" would've been a better word to use, truthfully.

Vercetti27

Those words shook Pegorino’s mind. They echoed through his skull, and he froze, as he moved to collect the briefcase of money.“What’s the matter? What’s happening”? Asked the Pavano boss, as he moved for the coke.“The Ancelotti’s. They’re here”. Pete almost whimpered in fear.“What the f*cks are THOSE assholes doing here”? The Pavano boss dropped the coke and turned to his men behind him.

Jimmy looked back at his phone.“Phil? Where are they heading”?“In your direction. There are about 10 of the f*ckers”.“sh*t”.

Jimmy hung up the phone and turned to Louie.“Lou! Get on the boat and start the engine. Now”! Jimmy loaded his combat shotgun.“Pavano! We gotta go! The Ancelotti’s are gonna be here any second. Take the coke”!Pavano bent over and picked up the bag of coke. His men rushed off with him. As soon as it happened loud gunfire thrashed through the air. The Pavanos were out of sight; he couldn’t see what was happening.

“Marco! Pete! Get on the boat! Now”? Exclaimed Pegorino, but as he did the Ancelotti’s arrived. All 10 of them. With blood on their shirts. “Had they killed the Pavanos”? Thought Jimmy, as he ran for his life back to the jetty to the boat.

Marco and Pete were stunned. Frozen to the spot. Marco tried to load the gun and shoot but he knew halfway through we didn’t have enough time.As Marco and Pete ran back to the jetty gunshots fired past them. Pete felt a hot sensation run down his back as he leapt onto the boat.

Louie revved the squalos engine as the Ancelotti’s fired more shots into the water. They had escaped. But they hadn’t escaped embarrassment. “sh*t that was embarrassing. We had to run for our lives from those Ancelotti c*ntholes. sh*t. Is everyone ok”? Pegorino asked, looking into the back of the boat where Marco and Pete were sitting.

“My..back..” Marco ran his hand along his back. His heart stopped as he felt a deep wound. As his hand ran down the bloody cut, the pain cut through him.

“AAGH. sh*t. I’ve been shot”. Louie turned around frantically.“Here, boss, take the wheel. I’ll see to Marco”.“But I don’t know how to drive this sh*t”“Just take the wheel and aim it north to Alderney and give it some throttle”! Louie replied, climbing over the middle of the boat to the back.

Louie took off his dirty old suit and held it tight over Marco’s wound, as Marco quietly howled in pain. Pete was sat on the side bench, wiping dirt off his clothes.“I think he’s passing out”, Louie cried.“Can’t you do something”? Pegorino argued, as he zoomed through the Humbolt, weaving in and out of large carrier ships.

“I’m losin’ him”, Louie pressed down hard on his bloody chest, trying to revive Marco. But it was too late. He had gone.“sh*t. He ain’t breathin”.“Damn Ancelotti c*nts. Poor boy. Never got a chance to kill no-one”. Jimmy had given Louie the wheel. Louie docked the boat at the jetty. They were home. Safe. But Marco had died.

Louie and Jimmy stood off from the boat, walking towards the car.“What gets me is, this Ancelotti attack came to a surprise from the Pavanos. How else did they know about our deal”? Louie asked.Pete caught them up. He wasn’t upset, he just stared at the ground. “Louie. I shoulda told you earlier. I wasn’t waiting for the right time”. Jimmy trailed off. “Whaddya mean”?“We gotta snitch”?“Who”.Pete slowed down as they neared the car. Without hesitation, Pegorino pulled out the pistol from his inside jacket and pulled the trigger as he pointed at Pete’s face. The loud bang echoed for seconds in Louie’s ear as the bullet fizzed into Pete’s forehead, spouting blood that shot into the sky. Pete fell to the ground motionlessly. “Pete- Ancelotti asshole”. Pegorino slowly released the trigger, and put it back into his jacket.

The afternoon rolled on as what was left of the Pegorino’s descended into the evening sun. The day had brought death, embarrassment and loss of both drugs and money. But it wasn’t over yet…

Tycek

He drove on his bike that was making a very loud noise to the carpark placed near the big brown apartament block on Hardtrack Ave. “Apartament” was a big overstatement in this case, because this was a building full of small flats with all kinds of lowlifes living in. People with even small amount of cash left this place and moved on to the richer districts. Those without money stayed here. He was born and raised here and he hadn’t place to go anyway. Sometimes you can’t escape.

He turned off the engine and got off from the bike. He put down sidestand with his foot and it drove into the broken tarmac that carpark was made of. He put keys in his pocket and started to go thru empty carpark, where stayed only one bike looking just like his. His brother was in the house.

Door to the building were open, so he pressed the handle and went inside. Stink of some funghus, trash covering the floor, cheap cigarettes, alcohol and ganja was coming from every hole and was coming into the eyes, nose and throat. He knew this stink since his childhood, so it didn’t make impression on him.This stink was part of his childhood.

He went upstairs and started walking to the door placed on the end of the corridor. Thick carpet silenced his every step, that only thing he could hear was his own deep and heavy breath, like he was tired or very angry. But he wasn’t showing any emotions or he wasn’t exhausted. His eyes barely visible in this darkness looked like they were empty.

He came to the shabby door and started to listen. Radio was playing inside, so his brother definitely was there. He didn’t have to find the keys, so he pressed the doorbell button and after a while the door opened. Young man with tickles on his face was standing on the doorstep.

“Can I come in?” he asked after a long while.“Of course. Come in.” young man answered and made some space “Kevin, where the hell have you been? I was worried.” He said closing the door.“I’ll tell you everything, but I want to go to the toilet first. Can I?” he asked taking his leather jacket off.“Yeah.” young man answered with a bit of anger in his voice. He went back to the kitchen. “You wanna eat something? I’m making dinner.”“Sure” answer came from the bathroom.

Kevin turned the knob and the water started to pour into the sink. He was standing and listening to it’s calming sound. He looked in the mirror and saw tired face. He gathered some water in his hands and splashed his head. It sobered him a little. He turned off the water and went off from the bathroom. Tommy was putting plates on the table.

“Sit down” Tommy said and turned back to the kitchen.

Kevin sat and looked at his brother that took off the frying pan from the burner and put it on the table.

“Two of them are yours” Tommy explained and got the bread from the cupboard.

Kevin looked on the the frying pan, where four fried eggs were still sizzling. He took two of them and took a bread from his brother hands. Tommy sat on the opposite chair and put eggs on his plate.

“Where have you been? Speak.” he ordered “Why didn’t you come to funeral of your own mother?”“Okay. I’ll tell you you everything” Kevin said while swallowing piece of egg. “I couldn’t look at her after what happened.”“What? What are talking about?”“I’ll start from the beginning then. Everything started when we had to grab that truck. I don’t how, but maybe the driver remembered me. The truth is russians found me. They went here while you were absent...“Russians were here?” Tommy surprised while eating slice of bread, so it fell from his hands and droped on the plate.“They had to have lockpick or something, because I didn’t hear them coming inside. They wanted me to cooperate and when I refused they grabbed our mother and injected her golden shot of crack. She died with a smile on her face...”

Tommy’s face was pale like a wall. He would fell if he didn’t sit. His brother cleaned the plate with a piece of bread and continued the story.

“I didn’t have a choice. They threatened me that they will kill you. I agreed to cooperate with them to protect you.”“That’s why there wasn’t ambush?” Tommy asked picking up the plates. “Exactly. I made up some tale for the guys, but Mike was a bright guy. He found out that something isn’t right, so I told Benny that that consider Mike as a traitor. There weren’t any problems, but I couldn’t let Benny speak with Billy, because everything will be f*cked. I stole Packer and splatted poor Benny in the tunnel.

Tommy was standing with a back leaning against the sink and listened scary story that his brother was telling. He just found out that his brother is traitor and murderer. Kevin stood up and came to the window. He started to look on the factories, which were main part of the view from the kitchen window.

“That’s the whole story.” He said still looking by the window. “My god. What have you done?” Tommy shouted “When Billy will find out he’s gonna kill you. We have to speak with Ralph and maybe with Johnny. They’ll help us.”“We have to fight thru this by ourselves. Ralph and Johnny can’t always help us. We will win if we stay togheter. You understand?”“Yes.” Tommy said while coming to the window “I understand.”

Kevin turned from the window and went to the living room which was connected with kitchen. He sat on the old couch which remembered their parents honeymoon. Tommy sat next to him.

“What now?” he asked“We’ll see. I got meeting today on the carpark in Westdyke. I would like you to come with me.”“Who you gonna meet?” Tommy asked“You’ll see. Will you come?”“I don’t know. You led to our mother’s death and you didn’t came to the funeral. Next Mike and Benny.” he stopped for a while “I don’t know if I can trust you.”“You can. I’m still your brother. I did this for you. To protect you.” he said while standing up from the couch “We have to go.”“I didn’t say that I’ll go with you.”“Tommy please. Just this once. We’ll show them that we can work as a team.” Kevin begged while pulling jacket on.“Okay, but just this once” he agreed and stood up.

They left the flat and closed the door behind themselves. After a while they were in front of the apartament block. They sat on their bikes, kickstart the engines and moved towards Westdyke. They were driving in silence thru Alderney that was fighting with evening rush hours. Driving in this case wasn’t pleasant, but it was pretty okay when you were riding on a bike. They got thru between the cars on their way to the north.

Finally they came to the carpark and drove inside. The meeting was suppose to take place on the highest level of the building. When they got there they saw that nobody is waiting for them. There were only three cars: silver Declasse Merit, green Vapid Bobcat and Red Dinka Blista Compact.

“Who you want to meet here?” Tommy asked turning the engine off “I can’t see anybody.”“They will be here in a minute, because we have arrangement. Maybe they stuck in the traffic?”“Who are they, anyway?”“You will see...”

The converastion was interrupted by the ringphone. It was Kevin’s cellphone.

“Yeah? Now? I’ll have a meeting in a minute. 10 minutes? Okay, if I don’t have a choice” he said and ended the call. “Tommy wait for them here. I must do something.”“What? No way. I’m going with you.” Tommy shouted.“Did you think what will happen if they’ll come here and we won’t be here. 10 minutes. I’ll be back soon.” he said and turned his bike to the exit ramp.”10 minutes.”

He turned the acceleration handle and drove to the lower levels. He left the bulding and took phone out of his pocket. He choose number from the phonebook and waited for an answer.“My brother is waiting for you at the carpark. He’s alone” he smiled and ended the call.

He turned acceleration handle to it’s limit and drove with a smile on his face thru Alderney streets. Humming sound of big bike engines could be heard near the multistory carpark in Westdyke.

I'm sorry you have to wait so long for my next story, but I can assure you that the next one will be soon.

bhlegend

JD’s eyes slowly opened, all he could see was the rough walls around him and he could hear a beeping noise coming from the machine next to him he looked down and saw that he was lying down on a bed. A man dressed in a white coat walked into the room with Kev behind him. He stood next to JD’s bed.

“How are you feeling JD?” said the man.“Like sh*t” replied JD in a slow voice.“You should go back to sleep” said the man“Were am I and where’s Mac?” said JD in a confused voiceKev stood forward and said “Mac’s fine and you’re in a back street hospital. We need to stay out of the streets for a while. The police are after you and Mac. Phil betrayed us and has started a drug dealing business. The people that attacked Phil’s house were gunmen hired by Packie McCeary when he learn of Phil’s betrayal before we did. ”

JD attempted to stand up but couldn’t and felt pain in his abdominals. “You need to rest” said the doctor.“For how long?” said JD in a worried voice.“Another day and then you are free to leave” said the doctor “Okay. Kev can you try and find out anything about where Phil is and what he is doing?” said JD“Yes okay. I’ll take Mac with me. He isn’t as bad as you so he should be fine to help me.” Said Kev

Kev left the room and went to the room next door where Mac was.“C’mon Mac we’re going to find out what we can about Phil” said Kev as Mac got up out of his chair and walked out onto the street with Kev.“So how are we going to find out where he is?” said Mac“I know someone who is very close to Phil and always goes with Phil.” Said Kev.They got into a car and drove towards Perestroika.“He lives in an apartment behind Perestroika” said Kev.

When they got to Perestroika, they walked around to the back alley. Kev lead Mac through a door and up some stairs. They got to the second floor.“Mac this is the place” said Kev“What are we going to do” replied MacKev pulled out a knife and a Combat Pistol. He handed the knife to Mac and made sure his Combat Pistol was fully loaded.“The guy has a long ginger beard and short ginger hair, don’t harm him but if anyone else is in there kill them.” Said Kev

Kev stood in front of the door and gave it a big straight kick which smashed it off its hinges. He stormed in and shot one man in the head. He walked into the living room and saw another man run into the kitchen. A small guy came out of a room behind Kev and jumped onto his back but Mac pulled him off and stabbed him in the chest.Kev and Mac walked into the kitchen to see a man that fitted Kevs description. He was going to open a window and jump out but Kev grabbed him and pulled him to the floor.

“Where is Phil?” said Kev“I don’t know I haven’t seen him in ages” replied the manKev pointed his gun at the man and shot close to his head to scare him.“OKAY! STOP! I’ll tell you .He runs a drug dealing house in the Firefly Projects it’s the third one on the left as you come in.” Said the man“How long has he been running it?” asked Kev“He secretly ran it when he was with the Irish MOB and it been going for about five months” replied the man.“Thanks for the help” said Kev and he shot the man in the head.

Kev and Mac walked out and drove towards the backstreet hospital that JD was in.

Build Up Your Gang

As usual, I'm stealing Colt's format to disguise the fact that it's not Colt. It appears to have been a week since my last ratings, and only three stories have appeared. Apparently, like last November, we're at the slow part of the year.

No lesson in grammar this week. Instead, straight to the ratings.

Vercetti27Pegorino Family | Pegorino Mansion | Chapter 4$40 + $3,380 = $3,420Mate, once again, an excellent first line. It grabs my attention and immediately gets me thinking "What words?! "You're still apparently confused about question marks (or do I do the grammar lessons for naught? ), as they should go inside the quotation marks: not this "Want some blow"? but this: "Want some blow?"I like that your stories have a lot of dialogue. Dialogue tells me what a character is thinking without narrating it. But can I suggest that you also look to increase the amount of narrative. Tell me a little more about what's going on, the noise of the gun battle, the path to the boat. You DO have some key narrative lines, do think I didn't notice, and conciseness is still king, I'm just advocating a bit more narrative.For extra points, I'd also recommend either going to longer paragraphs, or putting a line between those that you have. The paragraph format I'm writing with now is good for a review where I'm effectively bullet-pointing some notes to you, but not for a story. But, I like your work. I think this was a solid effort.

TycekThe Lost | The Lost Clubhouse | Chapter Six$37 + $780 = $817Ooooh, betrayal upon betrayals! Okay, well, I'll quietly pass over the english-as-a-third-language issue. (You wrote in English from scratch? Or are you back to using the translation program, which is not so good, agreed? Even if it forces you to do a lot of extra work, I think you can write in english better than a program.) The question for you is how much of grammar suggestions do you want? Read the suggested grammar of the past two staff posts; that should help. Because, let me say that within this is a good story.I appreciate that you've crafted a nice atmosphere with the sizzling eggs, a tired face in the mirror, and thick carpet. I like this, and I think the conclusion leaves me wanting to know more.As for the line, Young man with tickles on his face -- perhaps you mean his facial skin twitched? He had a facial tick?And a big, burly biker isn't going to ask to use "the toilet", instead he'll use the lowliest slang he knows for it and he won't ask, he'll just assume (it is, afterall, his own brother): "I’ll tell you everything, but first I gotta use the can." (Yes, I know you might not have known this word, but now you do. Plus a little Googling can go a long way.)Nonetheless, a good effort.

bhlegendIrish Mob | Steinway Beer Garden | Chapter 4 (I think that should read "5", no?)$25 + $1,064 = $1,089I know concise is best (not just short), saying what needs to be said with the least amount of fluffy words), but don't be afraid to explain the action a little more. Where was this guy that Kev shot as soon as they walked in? What was he doing that Kev should just gun him down like that? (They do seem a little vicious; why are they killing everybody?) You could have described a little more of the commotion that resulted when these guys burst in the room, the missed shots, where people were running to and how.And feel free to explain the background, to give us the summary from one of your characters, of how they see the world, who Phil is and what he did to them and why he needs to die because of it. Stories are not just stringing the action together.Good to see you're improving your grammar. Still issues with periods (full-stops) at the end of quotes instead of commas, or sometimes nothing.Still, I liked this story, and I can see improvement in your efforts. Good stuff.

Vercetti27

You're still apparently confused about question marks (or do I do the grammar lessons for naught? ), as they should go inside the quotation marks: not this "Want some blow"? but this: "Want some blow?"

Tycek

I must say that I used this program again, but only to translate some words. For the Tommy's face it should be spotty (red little dots that some people have on their faces), but some dictionary told me it is called tickle. And about this "toilet" that's my stupid mistake, because I have so many word to call it and I choose toilet. John, even crapper, but toilet. C'mon. And BTW thanks for the cash. I'm creating my next story right now.

bhlegend

JD walked outside and smelt the fresh air for the first time in four days. Followed by Mac and Kev they all got into a car parked outside. Packie McReary was in the driving seat of the car. He sighed as all three got into the car and saying “Finally, you took your time.”“Sorry boss” said Kev in a guilty way.

Packie started driving away from the hospital down towards Hove Beach.

“So what has Phil actually done to leave us.” Asked JD.“Well we didn’t realise he was taking our drugs and selling them to make money for himself. He also was giving rival gangs info’ on our operations. All of these attacks on you and everyone else is because of him.Then he made it clear when he shot you too. The people that attacked his house were hired by me to kill him but I didn’t realise you were there. It was lucky they attacked the house or he would have killed you.” Said Packie.“That’s okay Packie, they weren’t that hard to kill.” Said Mac.“Well at least they weren’t Irish MOB members. I hired them off of the street for a little bit of money. So we weren’t hurt by their deaths.” Said Packie.“Where are we going now.” Asked Kev.“We’re raiding Phil’s drug house” said Packie.“Just us four are going to take a whole house.” Replied JD.“No we’re meeting some people there.” Said Packie.

Packie pulled up behind a car outside of Phil’s drug house.

“What we are going to do is, two of the guys in the car in front of us will go into the house pretending to look at his merchandise, while the other two wait out here in the car. JD and Mac, you two will go around to the back and when you hear the first gunshot, you run in and we will kill all of them. Me and Kev will advance up through the front of the house. Remember we want Phil alive so we cxan interrogate him first.” Said Packie.

JD and Mac walked around to the back with Combat Pistols and hid behind a bush next to the back gate. Packie and Kev waited in the car for the two men to go into the house.

The two men got out of their car and walked towards Phil’s house. The door opened before they got there and a man walked out and stopped the two men. “Aaahh f*ck. We aren’t gettin’ inside” said Packie in a pissed off voice.As he was checking the first one for weapons the other pulled out a knife and drove it into his neck. He pulled it back out and kicked him to the floor. They moved towards the house pulling out Combat Pistols and Micro-Smgs. Packie and Kev got out of the car with Assault Rifles and took cover below the two windows with the two men.

Packie took a look inside through the window.

“Well Phil’s not in living room where the drugs are so we are clear to blast the sh*t out of this place.” Said Packie.

All four stood up and aimlessly shot through the window at the people inside. JD and Mac ran close to the house and fired through the back window. The people inside were falling down like a brick wall being smashed down by a bulldozer. When everyone in the living room was dead, everyone got into the house. As Kev opened the front door a man was at the top of the stairs facing him. He shot him three times in the chest and he fell down the stairs and landing flat on the floor. JD and Mac walked into the kitchen and then meeting the others in the living room.

“There’s no one else down here let’s get upstairs.” Said Packie.

Kev went up first checking the bathroom and an empty room. There was one room left which had its door closed.

“Phil if you’re in there then shout back or we will kill you.” Shouted Packie.

There was no answer. Packie shoulder barged the door down to see Phil at the opposite end of the room with a Pistol. He took a couple of shots at Packie before he could get into the room. He then ran and jumped out of the window smashing the glass and landing on the grass outside. He slowly got up and made a run for his car.

The two men waiting outside drew their weapons but Phil shot them both in the chest with quick reactions. He ran to his car but didn’t have his keys so he ran towards the sea. JD and Mac ran after him. Phil got to the end of Firefly Projects and stumbled down onto the beach from the broken barrier. Phil got up and got on a stashed moped he had down there. JD and Mac slowly got down to the beach were Phil had fallen. He started driving across the beach. JD saw a man sat in a parked boat who was quite close. JD held his gun up to the man shouting “Get off the boat now.” He got off of the boat as JD and Mac got onto it. They drove fast towards Phil who was getting away. As JD got close to him Mac shot his back tire and his front tire hit a rock on the beaches surface and he went over the handlebars, face planting the soft sand.

JD parked the boat and ran towards Phil with Mac. Phil tried to stand up but JD kicked him in the ribs and he went back down.

“Why did you betray us you f*cking prick!” shouted JD.“What are you on about?” said Phil looking confused.“You stole the Irish MOBs drugs and were selling them and you were telling other gangs about what we are doing!” Shouted Mac.“What’s wrong with making a bit of extra money.” Asked Phil in a sly voice.“There’s a problem when the money is meant to be the Irish MOBs.” Said JD.

Phil suddenly pulled a gun out of the back of his trousers but JDs quick reactions saw it and he kicked the gun out of his hands which left him standing over Phil but the wrong way so he Swivelled 'round and pulled out hit Combat Pistol pointing it at Phil's face.

Joe Jon began slapping and shaking a remote control, frustrated by the complexities of it's function. A new plasma screen television had recently been acquired, incidentally by force, from a transport truck. Truckers hated passing through Liberty City, as the Angels of Death often hijacked truckloads of goods like some barbaric modern day highwaymen. The plasma screen was a new replacement for the television destroyed in the fire. No matter what button he pushed, Joe Jon couldn't get the television to deviate from it's blank void, with "No Signal" bouncing around the screen.

" No Screen Piece of sh*t, Suck my f*ckin' Balls! " He screamed, his face turning red." Hey, lemme see that f*ckin' thing " Tank asked as he reached to snatch the remote from Joe Jons hand. Joe Jon threw the remote into his other hand and held it out and above Tank's head." f*ck Off, I swear I'll use your skull as a f*ckin' Beer stein " Joe Jon barked as he shoved Tank away. He began mashing buttons violently getting no result, so he threw the remote at the screen. When it bounced off harmlessly, he looked around and grabbed a ball-peen hammer sitting on the bar. He stomped over to the plasma screen and smashed the front of it repeatedly, causing the glass to break the the colors to flash wildly. A few of the members moaned as Joe Jon ruined their new toy.

Malvado, Big Al, and the rest of the crew came walking into the clubhouse. Malvado immediately approached Joe Jon.

" Why didn't you answer your f*ckin' phone man? " Malvado asked with an angry tone, but still cold and expressionless." What, am I your on call ni**er? " Joe Jon responded in kind." The f*ckin' Triad, sh*t, he shot Rocket Ronny... " Malvado said." Well then go out there and f*ck the little ch*nk up " Joe Jon replied." I already did, his face looks like that TV you got there. But we gotta go to war, kill 'em all man ." Malvado demanded. " Come 'ere for a sec. " Joe Jon said as he motioned for Malvado to follow him out of the room. Tank followed them, and Big Al tailed behind.

Joe Jon looked around to see if anyone besides the four of them could overhear." We can't do that man, I've been jumpin' hoops trying to keep Arnie from finding out we stole that heroin. If he knew we ripped off one of our oldest dealers and got the clubhouse burned, he'd cut our f*ckin' balls off. I ain't losin' my nuts for your f*ckin' vendetta. " Joe Jon said as he pointed viciously toward Malvado's face. Malvado didn't flinch." Ronny was a brother man, what the f*ck ever happened to that? " Malvado questioned." The clubs bigger than any one member... " Joe Jon began." Don't give me that Needs of the Many bullsh*t " Malvado interjected." What can I say, Ronny wasn't an earner. Hell, he didn't want to get his hands dirty, you were doin' all his f*ckin' work for him. We can't go to war just 'cause they shot some useless crackhead f*ck, patch or not. "" You son of a bitch! " Malvado said as he stepped up to Joe Jon. Big Al and Tank held the two of them back from beating the sh*t out of each other." You ain't a 1 percenter man, you're a dirty f*ckin' politician. " Malvado shouted as Big Al pulled him towards the exit." You're not in the Army anymore Malvado! Sometimes we gotta leave a man behind, that's business. " Joe Jon shouted." business, f*ck, why don't you just trade in that leather vest for a pin striped suit ya RUB f*ck? " Malvado yelled." Just get that f*ckin' money from Boccino, we'll give it to those yellow f*cks and everything will be square alright?! Remember who you're f*ckin' talking to! " Joe Jon yelled as Mavado was pulled from the clubhouse.

" f*ckin' prick, he's got no loyalty to the club or anybody in it. " Malvado muttered. He was pissed off to the point it seeped through his cold exterior." Hey calm down bud, you know the game, sometimes mother f*ckers get shot. Sure, Ronny didn't deserve that sh*t, but who does? That's the game man, sh*t happens, ya just gotta dish out more than you take. " Big Al said as he patted Malvado on the back." You sayin' what I think you are man? " Malvado asked." You and me buddy, we'll find everybody involved, cut 'em out like a surgeon. Joe Jon, Arnie, hell Nobody would even know we did it " Big Al offered." f*ck yeah, I knew somebody would stand up for the colors. " Malvado said." Nobody shoots one of us and gets away with it, if we don't enforce that then the Brotherhood means nothin'. " Big Al added.

Malvados Phone rang." I'll talk to ya later man, keep the rubber side down brother " Malvado said to Big Al, who gave him a repectful nod." Hello, Gwen? " Malvado answered the phone." Yeah, it's me. " Gwen responded. Then there was silence." Are you calling me for a reason? " he asked." Yeah...yes. I got some files from my husband on those bikers you were asking about. " she responded." The Westdyke Chapter. " he blurted out. He had almost forgotten he had asked her to help him with that. With Ronny dead, there was nobody pushing to find out the truth. Malvado figured if he had gone this far, he might as well keep going, for Ronny." If you want you can come pick them up, I sure did have to pull strings to get it I tell you. " she said." Right on, can I come over now? " he asked." Sure...do you think, maybe, you could stay for a while? " she queried reluctantly." I dunno, I got a lot of sh*t on my plate " he said. She let out an audible sigh." I'll see what I can do " he added."Great, I'll... " She began to say, when suddenly a voice could be heard in the background. "Who the f*ck are you on the phone with bitch? Is it that dirtbag Biker?" the voice asked furiously." Oh! You're home early! " Gwen said, and then the phone disconnected.

Malvado paused, staring at the phone deep in thought. Suddenly he jumped on his motorcycle and sped toward Gwens house...

Vercetti27

The sun shone down on Louie’s rugged bed. He slept in his clothes with a bottle of vodka in his hand, dribbling from his mouth. Louie spent the evening soaking his problems in alcohol. His uncle’s crime family had been dramatically cut, but he knew Jimmy had a plan. He slowly arose from his bed, the bottle still in hi hand, and wiped his mouth over with his other hand. He stood for a couple of seconds, enjoying the sunshine that entered through his window in his home in leftwood. Louie found the top for the bottle and screwed it on, and rested the bottle on the cabinet next to the window. As he wiped off the dirt from his suit the phone rang. It was the boss.“Hello? Boss”? Louie groaned.“Louie. We need to collect some of my old contacts. We need to have the experience we had years ago. I got a list of former associates that did work for us. I need you to find them”.“Uh..Sure, but I’m a bit tied up at the moment”?“Tied up? Ah for f*cks sake your not into that sh*t are you”?“No! I gotta hangover, I’ve been wearing the same creased suit for a week and my breath smells. Later maybe”.“It’s gotta be now. I had a friend back in the seventies. His name was Giovanni Boccino. He died a long time ago. Only did I find sometime ago that he had a son. Ray”.“Ok. How olds this son of his then”, Louie asked, as he threw the suit he was wearing into his washing basket, and found a clean suit and braces in his wardrobe.“About your age. He works as a waiter at the Italian restaurant in little Italy, in Algonquin. Uh..whats the name, Drusilla’s”.“Sure. I remember the place. We used to go there all the time when I was a kid. With my dad”. Louie sprayed some expensive aftershave over his chiselled face. “Yeah. Look, get yourself over there, find young Ray, and maybe talk him around to, you know, doing some work for us. Tell him Don Pegorino would be very grateful”.“Alright. I’ll talk to you later. Bye”.

Louie rested the phone back on the holder and shuffled downstairs as he did up his buttons on his shirt, leaving the top three open. He carefully assembled his tie around his neck, and put on the black suit jacket. As he opened the door the cold morning air didn’t do justice to his hangover, which pounded in the back of his skull. Louie took out the car keys for his Coquette out of his trousers and opened it. The car had recently been repaired, since the run in with the Ancelottis.

Louie drove south to little Italy. The area was like home away from home for him. He used to live in an apartment in Easton, and it overlooked the quaint little neighbourhood. The old market stalls and the Italian pizzerias were what he thought of when he thought of home. But Alderney wasn’t nothing like it. It was uglier. Harsher. Grittier.

The coquette rolled down the cobbled alleyway, which led to Drusilla’s. The place was quiet for now. Usually in the morning it would have a couple of tourists in and some locals for coffee, it would only get busy in the evening.

Louie pulled up opposite the restaurant, and exited the car, locking it using the automatic key without looking. He crossed over and entered the small restaurant which he spent the early years of his life in, learning about the Pegorino’s, learning about his dad did, before he was murdered.

Quiet Italian music was being played in the background; which created a charming Italian ambience. Louie stopped for a moment to take in the atmosphere. The powerful sensation of nostalgia rushed back, hitting him like a soft pillow over his face.

The man at the bar who was serving coffee wandered over to him. “Hello sir. What will it be for you”? The man asked. He wore a red coat as uniform, and high black trousers. The man was slightly obese, and seemed to be speaking in a false Italian accent.

“I’m Louie Pegorino”. Louie said, emotionlessly. “Uh..Isn’t that a kind of cheese”, the man asked, forgetting to put on his Italian accent.Another waiter who was serving drinks to a couple of American tourists turned around quickly. His jaw dropped as he placed mocha on the table. “sh*t? Pegorino”? The man asked.“Yeah that’s right. I need to speak to”-“Oh sir it is a great honour to have you back at Drusilla’s. I’m Luigi Perini. I used to now a lot of Pegorino’s who came here”. He said, wandering every closer to Louie. The American waiter backed off from them and served another couple at the bar.

“Did you know a man called Ferrari Pegorino”? Louie asked inquisitively.“Sure. He was a great customer. He- your not his little boy are you”?“Yep. I’m Louie”.The waiter started to smile.“Louie! I remember you. You used to only be this high when I last saw you. Your dad always said you’d grow to be tall”.“Yeah. My dad said a lot of things. Some of those things got him into trouble with the local Italian mafia chieftain”.“Ha yes, your dad always got into trouble”. The man reminisced, forgetting he had customers to serve.

“So, I guess. If you knew my father, you’d know a man who works here. He is the son of an old Pegorino associate. His name was Giovanni Boccino”.“Boccino? Ah Ray Boccino! Yes of course, he’s around the back in the kitchen. He’s cleaning the dishes”. He said cheerfully. As Louis started to walk into the kitchen, he wanted to know his name.

“Sir? Whats your name”? Louie asked.“Enrico Portillo”, he stated.“Nice to meet you Enrico”.Louie wandered into the kitchen. Loud banging and crashing erupted from behind the deep fat frier, which was steaming away.Louie walked over slowly, trying to find his way through the mist of the fat frier, which was almost shaking. A smile slowly emerged across his face as he saw a young thin man with slicked back hair try and carry a high tower of dirty plates over to the basin.

“Hello. Are you Ray Boccino”? Louie asked, knowing the answer already.“Oh, yeah sure, that’s me”. Ray said, in a high pitched, confident tone.“I’d like to speak to you. On behalf of my boss, Mr Jimmy Pegorino”.“Pegorino”? Ray repeated. He might have been the son of a mafia associate, but he sounded like he could be on his paper round on his day off from school. He sounded like a kid. Not a man capable of such work.

Louie was sat at a table for two, opposite young Ray Boccino. A candle was lit in the middle, and Italian music was serenading the scene. It looked like a romantic meal setting, but what Louie was going to talk about was nothing like it.

Ray grinned away, thinking he was going to be engaged in an innocent chat about news.“Ray. As you may know, your father, Giovanni, was a good friend of my uncle”.“Yeah. He mentioned the Pegorino’s a lot. Before..”“Ray it’s ok, you don’t have to talk about your father. I lost mine too”. Ray looked nervous, but was intrigued.“You see. It’s been a hard time for us recently. We’re a little short. My friend Marco was shot to death by a bunch of bloodthirsty Ancelotti c*nts”.“Oh dear. I’m sorry to hear that”. Ray said, sounding genuinely sincere.“Yeah well. We’ve been thinking. We’d like to offer you the chance to follow in your dad’s footsteps. We wondered if you would like to work for us”. Louie said, looking across the table at the young Ray Boccino hopefully.“I’ve spoke to Jimmy. He offered me a chance a long time ago to be an informant, and tell him if I can find anything out for you”.“Yes well, we need someone who can offer more…practical help”.“You mean you want me killing gangster’s”? Ray said, stunned. Louie realised Ray would never be anything like his father.“Well, not quite. At least, not yet. We’d like you to, help around a little”.There was a pause. Ray looked at the table beneath his arms. He slowly looked up, as if remembering his dad’s death, which had gone un-revenged. Louie held eye contact with him, knowing that he could be a great Pegorino in years to come. Then, Ray opened his mouth.“I’ll do it”.

Alright, yes, some staff member rated it as "not your best work", sure, but it wasn't THAT bad. If there's storyline corrections you need to make, you are can always allowed to re-edit your stories in the original post. They just won't be re-rated.

Or are you seeking to erase the original post of your story and have a new, revised post of the same story re-rated after you've made the changes?

If you're seeking to do the second, you would only get rated the with the dollar difference between your original and new/revised story. So, it'd get, like, two bucks or five or something like that.

"It's your job," Leo said, offering Al the "floor" with a gentle wave of his hand.

"Simply this," Al began, "the cops at the airport have been issued with brand new heavy shotguns, just like our soldiers are using overseas, to help reinforce security at the airport. Only, they don't yet have cradles for them, which means they're still using good, old-fashioned padlocks to lock them in."

"And we're going in to relieve them of a few," Leo said in conclusion.

"They don't have cameras, security gates or nuthin', so we're gonna walk in and take as many as we can carry," Al continued. "But, I hope you brought a packed lunch, 'cuz we have to wait until the carpark is deserted and until there's enough cop cars to make it worth our while.

"'Cuz we're not gonna get a second bite at this apple. Stealing their new guns guarantees that next time, they'll have patrols, cameras and gates."

"Now, since Tony and I are the locksmiths, we'll do the honours," Leo instructed. "Doc and Al here will load what we give you into the trunk, and keep the engine running.

"The cops see us and we f*ck-off," Leo insisted. "No heroics. No shoot-out. No sh!t. We just dive in and floor it. Airport cops are mean f*ckers. We're not taking them on."

The drive across town took some time, leaving them famished when they arrived at the Italian place on Tudor Street. A quick meal later and they were gently cruising south along Tudor street to the airport road. Doc turned east, and Leo instructed him to pull-up on the grass.

"And careful," he instructed. "This is Lou's car. He'll kill us if we scratch it."

"Alright, this is how it works," Leo explained. "We need enough cruisers to make doing this worth our while."

"Nobody will be the wiser if you're at the airport, though," Al offered. "We could take turns walking past. Afterall, this is a likely pick-up point for some people."

"Yeah, alright," Leo said, nodding, "yeah, a circuit around the block past here, and it's a quick, discrete phone call to bring the rest of us for the pick-up. Done!"

Leo gave Al a thumbs-up and a wide grin. "You first."

They parked the car at the airport, and Al' took a leisurely walk by the rear of the police station, a long walk along the fence, while the other three guys sat in or around the car basking in the afternoon sun. While small talk kept the minutes from feeling like hours, it risked tackling something real.

"Boss, waddya reckon's happened to Franny?" Doc asked, naively, unaware of the taboo on speculation. A quick slap to the back of his head by Tony informed him.

"Doc," he continued, as they all climbed back inside the warmth of the car, "I honestly don't know, but I do know this aint like Franny to go missing like this. Even his wife don't know where he is.

"If it was those Russian pr!cks, his car would have exploded. Another family would have gunned him down in the street. You just don't disappear a made-man without there being inside...-"

Leo cut the thought dead, and changed the subject. "I ever tell you boys Franny bought me for six large?"

Doc and Tony's incredulity at the thought broke both into wide smiles and accusations of jest by Leo.

"No, on my mother's grave," Leo insisted. "It's how he got me into the family. And six thousand was big dollars in '78, but it gave me back five years of my life."

"What the hell happened?"

"I was a punk kid in those days. Knew it all. My father, buon' anima, was in the ground, and none of my uncles, wise guys all, could make a dent on me. I was a real smart-ass. Friends and I would be out thievin' cars and racing them around Algonquin, winning pink slips or money and, if we lost, we only lost a stolen car. One night, I took a shotgun to the display window on a DeClasse dealership, stole this purring Vigero they'd done-up properly, and took it to North Holland for a race."

"Did you win?"

"With that car?!" Leo replied, a single eyebrow raised.

"Of course I won," Leo answered, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But, when we was all celebrating, the cops show up and I get pinched. Car theft along with everything else, and I'm looking at five years in the joint. Me, a smart-ass kid staring down five years or more.

"I guess the Family, and it was the Forellis in those days, they must have got wind I'd been pinched. The Families in those days owned all the cops, not like today. In those days, us Italians stuck together.

"So, as a favour to my old man, to his widow, Giorgio Forelli, back before he disappeared south, turns up with a newly made-guy by the name of Louie Francetti. Franny pays the cops six G' to lose me outside some bistro they used, and, Franny explains that since they paid a price to save five years of my life from the can, I owed them those five years. So, that day on, I was Franny's 'boy', and by the time I paid my debt, I was ready to be made. Never looked back."

Enrapt, Tony and Doc barely made a sound as the story ended, but their wide, appreciative smiles spoke volumes.

Finally, Tony broke the silence. "Do you really think Vano had anything do with Franny?"

"I doubt even he would be so..." Leo started, unable to describe the boss as 'stupid', "but, these days, nuthin' f*ckin' surprises me.

"Still," he said, an afterthought, "I can't see it. He needs every dollar, every man. No, it has to be someone else."

"Who's 'Vano'?" Doc finally asked.

"Gino," Tony answered, just as the rear passenger-side door opened, and Al shivered his way inside.

"F*cking cold out there now," Al said of the late afternoon air, the sun having disappeared behind the buildings, trees and hill to the west. "I wandered around as long as I could stay inconspicuous, but there was never more than three or four cruisers, and always someone going in and out. Someone else's turn now."

Tony stepped from the vehicle and began the walk toward the station. The three of them watched as he walked to the front driveway, past the handful of police talking outside, and disappear behind the building. Following him inside, a half-dozen police cruisers, one-by-one, slowly meandered down the driveway. They looked at eachother in amazement before each man echoed the same thought: "Shift-change."

Leo's phone rang shortly afterward, Tony reporting the cruisers were seemingly staying put, while the officers were going inside, and no one coming out. Moments later, Doc pointed at the lone figure of Tony emerging at the side entrance to the carpark, looking down the ramp, inconspicuously waving his arms by his side.

"That's it," Leo said. "Let's move." Doc started the car and they gently rolled across the carpark, to and around the airport road, right and up the hill, before turning left into carpark. Tony climbed inside as they gently rolled down the hill of the driveway.

"I aint seen nobody, boys. We should have a clear five or ten minutes."

"Before we start anything, turn the car back that way, Doc," Leo instructed, preparing them for a quick getaway. Doc turned the car around in one of the spaces, then reversed back. "Only as far as the third car," Leo said. "We don't want anyone coming up that front driveway to see us at work."

Before a man opened a door, Leo repeated his warning: "Remember, we're spotted, we run. Not a shot, nuthin'. I'm not getting branded a terrorist."

Doc popped the trunk, as Tony and Leo walked to a cruiser each and quietly popped the door locks, and Al wandered to the end of the carpark to cast a wary eye down the driveway for any approaching cars. Using a small crowbar, Tony cracked the padlock securing the two shotguns, while he noticed Leo struggling with a lock-picking kit.

"Doc, take over from Al," Tony said, before instructing Al to take the guns he'd collected and lay them gently on a blanket in the trunk. Tony then applied his crowbar to Leo's padlock. Thereafter, the silent operation gained a mechanical precision: Tony would crack the door lock, and while Leo moved onto the next car, Tony would free the guns and gently press closed the doors, and Al would gently trunk the weapons, while Doc kept an eagle-eye for anyone and roll the car forward as they progressed quickly along the line of police cruisers. No words were spoken, save a grunt or grumble at a recalcitrant lock, and the guns were treated with utmost care, lest one be cocked and blast a hole in their careful silence.

Al's eye was firmly trained on the rear door to the station and the corridor beyond its glass, lest anyone emerge, and though he saw uniforms wander back and forth from room to room either side of the corridor, not one looked in their direction, not one stopped and stared.

As Al trunked the twelfth shotgun, he rolled the car forward as Tony and Leo jogged to the next cruiser, and happened to peer in the mirror at a frantic Doc waving his arms and retreating further and further behind a cruiser so as not to be seen by whatever approached along the driveway from the east. Before Al could shout quietly to the other two guys, a cruiser gently cruised around the corner.

For Al, time almost stopped. In his mirror, he saw the police stare dumbstruck at the sight of two guys popping a police cruiser's lock. They seemed unaware that, behind them, cowering behind another cruiser, was the theives' watchman. As the cops froze, Al froze, as though attempting to render the entire car invisible.

And then, one of the cops leaned over slightly and the cruiser's flashing lights popped to life.

"GUYS!!"

Leo and Tony, either alerted by the Al's shout or the red and blue light flashing on the side of the cruiser they were working on, turned their heads and recognised the threat.

"Hey, stop right there!" the police loudspeaker shouted as the two suspects ran for the waiting getaway car's open doors.

"This is the police!"

Lou slammed into the rear seat, and as Tony dived over the hood to reach the passenger door, uttered two words quickly: "Where's Doc?"

"Behind those f*ckin' cops," Al replied as Tony slammed into his seat and ordered Al to "Floor it!"

Al hesitated. Leo had just muttered that the kid, Doc, would make his own way, but Al knew he'd be pinched, and, with him, possibly all of them.

As Tony, and then Leo, shouted at Al to get the car moving, Al waited, apparently vasselating, undecided on the next step to take. Was he insane, they asked. Just go, they shouted.

But, Al finally saw what he needed to see: both cops slowly emerging from their cruisers, guns drawn.

He slammed the car into gear and pressed his foot to the floor, giving one, last brief look in his mirror to Doc cowering behind a parked cruiser.

But, instead of slamming their heads hard into their headrests, for which they were ready, Leo and Tony almost slammed their faces into the dash and seat in-front, while Al shouted with full lungs, "HANG ON!"

The trunk closing instantly as the car slammed, hard, into the cruiser, pushing it, against the strength of its handbrake, backward.

The cruiser lurched backward a foot, slamming its doors into the two emerging officers, sending both crashing to the ground.

The car ground to a halt, the rear-side door popped open and Leo's face appeared, shouting, "Kid! Get in here!"

Doc didn't need another invitation, leaping over one of the cops trapped under the door of his own cruiser, and diving head-first into the car before Al slammed his foot to the floor again sending the car lurching forward, roaring past the back double-doors to the station where an unruly crowd of police had emerged to investigate the sound of tyres squealing and cars impacting.

They slammed into the driveway ramp at speed and launched onto the road, not bothering to slow for traffic, slamming straight into the front-corner of a crossing car. Unabashed, and with the sound of police sirens echoing, Al kept the car driving right across the road into the park opposite without stopping.

Looking behind them, Leo happily reported that the accident they'd caused also created a blockade stopping the police pursuit. He kept watch as Al navigated trees, flew through a pile of neatly assembled leaves and rolled to a stop somewhere in the middle of the park.

"They following?" he asked urgently.

"Nah, kid," Leo said slowly, watchfully, "I don't see no one."

There they paused, coiled ready to speed away, watching a police cruiser speed by on the elevated freeway to their left searching for them. Gradually, they relaxed.

And then, Al's door opened.

"Ya f*ckah roon mah leaves," was all Al heard before he felt two strong arms grab his jacket and drag him from the car.

"Yur the ones fleeing them coppers," the figure shouted as he dragged Al to the sodden ground. "Om gonna drag you in, I wull."

Bewildered, none of the other three reacted before Al, pushed to the ground, received a blow to the side of the head. The figure began wildly gesticulating to passing police, and pulled a hand-held radio from his belt calling for help, shouting that he'd "gottem".

This couldn't be good. Without hesitation, Al planted his feet flat into the ground to stabilise his body, reached into his coat, pulled a piece and fired at the shadowy figure in the dimly lit park. There was a scream, following by cursing and shouts.

"Me arse!" the figure shouted, falling to his knees, the radio discarded to the ground. "Yeh shot me in the arse!"

As Leo and Tony, regaining their composure, emerged, guns drawn, from the car, Al stood, keeping his gun aimed, kicked the radio away and kicked the kneeling municipal worker to the ground. Shouting that the figure was harmless, the three climbed back in and casually drove toward the airport ring road, where they joined traffic entering the Dukes-Broker expressway. As they cruised inconspicuously past the final police checkpoint, all four exhaled heavily.

"Thanks for comin' back for me, guys," Doc finally said. "Thought I was pinched f' sure."

"Thank Al for that," Tony replied. Adding with a teasing chuckle, "We were ready to abandon ya. There was no way...-" He paused and turned to Al. "I was wondering why the f*ck we weren't moving when the cops popped their lights, but you did f*ckin' good getting Doc back."

Leo leaned forward and rested a hand on Al's shoulder. "Yeah, ya did good, kid. Kept ya head when sh!t was poppin'. Takes a cool man.

"Lou was right about you."

"F*ck! Lou," Al remembered, thumping the steering wheel and nodding in defeat. "This is Lou's best car, and it's gotta be hotter than July after this."

After Broker Bridge, the tunnel and some streets in Alderney, they drove into the rear driveway of the Recycling plant just as the sun's last light disappeared from the sky. Big Lou stepped from the darkness, quietly assessing the scratched and dented sides and crumpled front and rear of the PMP, before nodding, impressed, at the twelve guns in the trunk.

"Lou, look, I know you're pissed about the car," Al started. "But, we had some...-"

"Are you f*ckin' kidding me?" Lou asked incredulously, his arms held wide in disbelief. He turned to Leo and Tony. "Is this kid sh!ttin' me?"

"Twelve combat shotguns!" he shouted. "F*ck the car! Steal me a new one tomorrow!"

I am genuinelyinterested in feedback. If you'd prefer not to clog the thread, feel free to PM instead.

"Repost" as in a brand new post, erasing the old post, and getting it re-rated, right? You need to be clear about this, 'cuz you can re-edit your old stories as often as you like, but staff will not re-rate them. If you repost, well, I'm not sure that's been done before, but if you really, really insist its necessary, this staff member will let it past, just this once.

Only four days since the last ratings. Thought I'd get in before the rush. As usual, Colt's format ... blah, blah, blah.

bhlegendIrish Mob | Steinway Beer Garden | Chapter 5 The Showdown$29 + $1,089 = $1,118Good length and interesting story -- we're getting to the crux of a storyline, rather than random explosions of violence, which is good -- albeit a story hampered by poor grammar and expression.Reread your own stories before you post them, or get someone to review them for you, 'cuz there's a few places where I'm sure you think you know what you said, but you didn't quite say it. You mention "the two guys" a few times, but it's not clear exactly which two guys and where they were in the car or what-not. Two guys in the front of the car are gonna pretend to buy, while two more anonymous guys are hiding behind the car? How did this car fit eight people? O_o It will pay to either give them names or to name them by some kind of description about them, like scarface, or "the leather jacket twins" or something.Plus, it's not"Where are we going now." Asked Kev. , nor "Where are we going now" asked Kev. , but "Where are we going now," asked Kev. Comma at the end of the quote (ir question or exclamation marks) and the "said"/"asked"/etc is not capitalised.Sorry, but the chase paragraph was a little too short, and so important details were missed in the reading. Same as mentioned last time: concise is very important, but you could have doubled the length of that chase without being too overly long. The chase was important. It was the last gasp of their enemy, but they're on and off boats and mopeds within single sentences.Still, overall, this is the best story of yours so far.

Big Mitch BakerAngels of Death | AoD Clubhouse | Chapter Eight Kung-Fool Fighting$51 + $1,032 = $1,082Very good. A fine return to form for the big man! Excellent opening sentence, can't emphasise this enough: it just makes for an immediately engrossing story. Nice choice. Nicely described tension between John Joe and Malvado. Seriously, that conversation sparkled with fireworks, and read as realistic. Well done. I'd almost be tempted to believe you borrowed it from some people you knew.May I make one suggestion, though: He was pissed off to the point it seeped through his cold exterior. Instead of telling me how he's feeling, describe it by what he did or how he looked to others. Describe how he slammed his fist through a wall, or beared his teeth bitterly, or his posture appeared to Tank like he was about to erupt, rather than tell me "this is what he's feeling". It's just better writing, is all.And, I appreciated the colouring of your quotes, ever-so-slightly coloured so that it's not distracting but is noticeable and breaks-up your groups of paragraphs (paragraphs that really ought to have line spaces below them, but hey). It was a nice touch.And then Gwen rings to add tension to the situation. Malvado seemed uncharacteristically unimpassioned about Gwen's impending black-eye, which took me a little by surprise. But you ended that well.Beyond that, a few grammatical errors around quotations, missing commas or full-stops in their place, and then some unwarranted capitalisation. Minor stuff.This is a return to some sterling form. (PS; love the chapter name, too. )

Vercetti27Pegorino Family | Pegorino Mansion | Chapter 5 The Boccino Meeting$38 + $3,420 = $3,458Good. Louie's reminiscing about Little Italy, the smells, the sounds, was good. I like all the new guys being introduced, including your introduction of meek-n-mild waiter Ray. Another nice touch. I am a little ambivalent about Ray's personality, who always struck me as overly cocky, smooth, and so sure of his success-filled destiny. All mouth. So, lines like: "Oh dear. I’m sorry to hear that" just sound too sincere for him. Not a critique, just an observation.Once again, remember that IRL no wise guy refers to their thing as the "mafia". The local mafia chieftain is just gonna be the local Godfather, or the Boss, or the Don. Remember that Mafia is a police name for them.Still some spelling and grammatical errors, including question marks still outside the quotes?! And this after posting your recognition of the error. Nonetheless, a lengthy, solid story, and I like where you're taking us.

AragondPegorino Family | Recycling Plant | Story #10$rating still pendingWhat the cheesits is wrong with the formatting?! Apparently font-sizing has been switched off for new posts to save on server load.

Pegorino Family | Recycling Plant | Story #11$rating still pendingWhat the cheesits is wrong with the formatting?! Apparently font-sizing has been switched off for new posts to save on server load.

bhlegend

Phil laid on the beach, his face crippled by the Combat Pistols bullet destroying the structure of his face. JD stood over him looking shocked at what he had just done but was kind of happy at the same time even though he could not show it.

“JD, it’s over.” Said Mac.“Not yet. Not until we’re out of here.” Replied JD who was still staring at Phil’s crippled face.“We better get out of here, the police will be here soon with a sh*t load of guns to take us down.” Said Mac.“Alright, lets move.” Said JD.

JD and Mac walked across the empty beach. They stopped when JDs phone started ringing.

“Hello.” Said JD .“JD you better run, there’s two riot vans heading for Phil’s drug house, with all of those witnesses they will find out that you ran down onto the beach.” Said Kev. “Well how did you get away?” asked JD“When we saw you run for Phil we cleared out of the house and got back in the cars. We were going to help you but on our way down we saw the two riot vans.” Said Kev.“Were are you going now?” asked JD“Packie is going to drop me off at my heli pad and I will pick you up. Stay out of sight and I will come and get you.” Said Kev as he hung up the phone.“Lets get over there behind those rocks, Kev is going to pick us up.” Said JD to Mac.“Okay then lets get there quickly.” Replied Mac.

JD and Mac ran to the rocks and hid behind them. JD sat down on the floor while Mac leaned against the big rock.

“Mac, what the hell are we going to do?” asked JD“What do you mean.” Replied Mac.“We’re on the run. Since Phil betrayed us we don’t know who to trust. We’re as good as dead at the moment.” Said JD.“So what are you trying to say?” asked Mac in a confused voice.“I’m saying that we should move and I mean out of liberty city.” Said JD.“Why, we’re in a gang we’re earning money so why should we move to a completely different city.” Said Mac.“Do you not understand that at anytime we could be arrested or killed?” asked JD.“Yes but...” said Mac who was interrupted by JD who said “But what? We should move and get a fresh start.”“Move to where though?” asked Mac. “Vice city?” said JD.“Why would we move there?” asked Mac.“Only temporarily and come back in a year or so with new identifications.” Said JD.“Maybe. Only if we’re in loads of sh*t.” Replied Mac as Kev turned up in a helicopter.

Kev opened the side door of his helicopter and said “You boys better get in. There’s loads of cops in this area.”

JD and Mac got in and slide the door shut. JD and Mac sat opposite Kev who had his friend piloting the helicopter.

“So Kev, what do you think of Vice city?” asked JD.“It’s a sh*thole. Drugs being pulled in all the time and the police are everywhere. Why did you ask?” Replied Kev.“We’re both thinking of moving there.” Said Mac.“What because of all this sh*t?” asked Kev.“Yes and we want to move away and come back in a year or two so that the heat on us has died down.” Said JD.“I might be able to get you two a free ticket. I know a guy who imports drugs from Vice city to Liberty City, maybe he could import you two.”“Okay, can you please try?” asked Mac.

Kev flicked his phone out and dialled a number. He began a conversation with the man on the other end. After asking he put the phone down.

“You boys up for leaving today?” asked Kev.“The sooner the better.” Said JD.“Meet him in an hour down at the Poop Deck restaurant and he’ll take you from there.” Said Kev.“Thanks Kev we owe you one when we’re back.”

1 hour later....

JD and Mac were sat on a big box watching Liberty City fade away as they got further out to sea. JD turned to Mac as the Statue of Liberty faded and said “Well I guess the dream never came true for us....”

aragond

Okay, can I join the albanian mob, at the broker hardware store?I will use better grammer in the stories, don't worry.also, do we have to use characters from in the game, or do we make up our own?

1. Yes, just startwriting for that gang at that location and if you're the first one in with such a story, you get the location. (Front page gets updated when staff review your story.) Read this and the front page for more.2.Hmmm, perhaps staff are appearing too down on grammar problems.3. Yeah, what the MasterMind said.You certainly do not HAVE to use characters from the game, but you can if you want. But if you DO use them, they should be used sparingly, as in-the-background characters, and certainly not as your main characters. Now since you're looking to join the Albanians, there's not many in-game characters to use anyway. For the most part, you invent your own.

@bhlegend: AWW NO! The story's finished?! You do get that staff said your #5 was your best?

Vercetti27

@aragond- I've never wacthed the sopranos, if anything there are supposed to be more godfather references. At least in the names

Pegorino FamilyPegorino MansionWithdrawal SymptomChapter 6

Sat in the dark sitting room in the Pegorino house, Louie waited for Jimmy to come downstairs. He had called him to come to the house urgently 15 minutes ago and hadn’t made an appearance yet. Jimmy’s wife was sat on the porch outside, smoking the first of her 30 a day. Louie felt compelled to join her, but he had quit smoking. At least that’s what he told everyone. But it was so hard. The withdrawal symptoms of itching your skin, not being able to keep concentration and drinking didn’t help either.

Louie spent the spare time he had by following a group of Ancelotti’s around the industrial park in southern Alderney. They had been dealing with a group of foreign businessmen, and he had been reporting this to Jimmy for a week. He knew he was planning something. He better had been. Ray Boccino wasn’t going to help. At least not for a while.

Jimmy Pegorino almost jogged down the stairs to see his young nephew sat in his wide armchair, scratching his arms irritably looking into the television set gormlessly. Jimmy stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking at Louie, concerned. “Louie. Great to see you here so early. I’m sorry I took so long, I had business to attend to”. Pegorino said, walking over to the side table and finding his box of cigars, taking one out, and lighting it, forgetting about Louie.

“Yeah. Sure. Do you have to smoke that here”? Louie asked, placing a nicotine patch on his arm. It worked by slowly releasing nicotine into his body, without him having the urge of wanting a cigarette or cigar.“Sorry m’boy. Forgot about that. You keep strong son”.Pegorino didn’t stop, as he blew incessantly on the thick cigar, looking at the floor, as if he had to announce bad news.

“Sonny Clemenza”. Pegorino announced in a hushed voice. Louie recognised the name, but he couldn’t remember where. This took his mind of smoking for a moment. “He was a good friend to the Pegorino’s a long time ago. If we’re gonna get revenge on the Ancelotti’s there’s only one man we really need. Sonny was loyal to the family. And he was a good shot to. I want you to find him”.“Where”?“He’s working at a factory in the industrial park. Ever since we lost power in the seventies he’s tried to forget about the killing and the drugs etcetera etcetera”. “Which factory”?“The Cigar factory”.“Are you f*cking kidding me”?“Do you want to find Clemenza or not. Just tell him we’re on the way up again. Then we’ll be able to get back at those assholes”.

Louie shook his head in disbelief as he drove his way south to the industrial sector. His lips kept a toothpick in his mouth, to stop him from feeling the withdrawal symptoms. Having something between his lips, nursing his addiction to puffing on a thin, crisp cigarette, he pulled into the car park at the cigar factory. He could hear the coughing and smell the smoke already as he exited the coquette, glancing down at the name he had written on his hand.

SONNY CLEMENZA.

Louie walked through the double doors, which led inside the Smokey interior of the factory. Inside were conveyor belts of cigars, being lightly examined by big, fat bald men, who were smoking. This did hell for Louie’s willpower. Louie stared up at a door upstairs with Sonny’s name printed in gold writing. He ran up the metal stairs, as he flicked the toothpick from his mouth.

From outside the office he could hear talking, a small Italian American accent was detected. He saw a silhouette, pacing. Louie knocked hard on the door. The silhouette stopped.“Who is it”?“Pegorino”?“sh*t. Jimmy?” Asked Clemenza, in a lightly raspy tone. Clemenza’s voice was deep, an unmistakably gave an impression of authority. “No. It’s his nephew. Louie”.“Louie? Uh. Come in”.

Louie opened the door. The handle was almost off the door, and the hinges were creaky. Inside, Clemenza stood tall, with his hands behind his back. On his left, sat at the desk was a young man, about 17.“Ricky. Do you want to go downstairs for a minute?” Asked Clemenza, glancing down at the young man, with a gentle smile. The younger man nodded, glanced over at me, and walked through the door. As the door swung shut again, the sound of the factory slowly drifted away.

“Louie”, announced Sonny, with his hands grasped together. He stood with a great posture, and had a formidable presence.“I remember your father. I remember when the family was huge. We owned this town”, Sonny paced over to the wall on the left, with his hands behind his back he leant over and glanced at an old framed photograph, which appeared to be an old picture of Drusilla’s in the 1960’s.

Louie looked at Sonny, with an expressionless face.“You remember me”? Louie asked.“Sure. You’re just like your father. He was always confident. He’d do anything for the family. But I hear things aren’t going too well at the moment, am I right”?“We’re getting new competitors. That’s all it is”?

Sonny glanced down at his chair, and rested his hand there, before looking back at Louie curiously.“In a city up for grabs, new competitors spawn like prostitutes at south bohan”. He smirked, looking back down at the floor.“Sonny, we need, we need you back. We’re low on numbers. We’re trying to merge the family back together. We’ve got a new agenda. My uncle is insistent you come back”. Louie said, stressing his point across through vigorous hand movements that he always used if he was getting angry.

Sonny looked at Louie, his face was sincere, and serious. “I’ve got a great set-up here Lou. I’m making money out of my ass”.Louie assumed the answer was no. Sonny wandered back over to the photograph on the wall.“But I’d sure like to get even with those f*ckers that killed your father”, he said quietly, staring into the photo, as if the longer he did it, the more he felt he could be part of his old memories.

“Okay. Tell Jimmy he’s got a deal. On one condition”.Louie gently smiled, “What”? “He lets me use my associates from the factory. They can help out the family”. Sonny turned, looking positive and confident.“Sure”. Louie slipped another toothpick in his mouth, and made his way out of the factory.